it is a trying period. starlings congregate
on a roof in the distance. it is silent.
we love each other quietly, in our separate
rooms. it’s all we can do.
our world has been reduced
to the four walls of our rooms. mundane
mondays morph into transient tuesdays into…
wait, what day is it? i don’t quite remember.
starlings congregate on a roof in the distance,
then disperse. it is a trying period.
but a window lights up. and another. and
another. it is dark. it is silent.
abruptly, the applause
rings out.
a face in the crowd 